A mission to quell an uprising in Gongaga turns deadly when the inhabitants become enraged by leaking mako...As Shinra's solution to everything, Sephiroth is assigned to resolve the mess...a mess that he quickly learns is as deadly as the mako...

The
motorcycle left a trail of mako smoke as it blazed up Midgar Express
Lane number 4. In its greenish wake, a dozen cars speeded after it. A
traffic light flashed crimson but neither the rider of the bike nor
his pursuers even slowed down. Other vehicles emitted hooks in
protest, sounds that were soon lost as the light burned mako-green
and traffic resumed.

Fumes
burned his nose as Sephiroth guided the motorcycle through a narrow
two-lane. The General pushed his bike to greater speeds. Such was
that speed that, unfortunately, his shades flipped off his head,
revealing a pair of stunning lifestream-green eyes. Sephiroth cursed.
That was his favorite pair. Silver hair swirled like melted stars as
the general cast a glance over his shoulder.

The
shades hit a man in a car behind him right between the eyes just as
he was about to snap a picture. He dropped the camera and it
shattered beneath the tires of car in the opposite lane. Sephiroth
laughed, pale face highlighted by the blue light coming from the
Honey Bee Inn. Then his head spun back around as another man took aim
for another picture.

One
more damn flash and I'll—Sephiroth's left hand stole to the
hilt of Masamune. Just touching her gave him a measure of calm though
he longed to whirl the bike around and drive the long blade though
the heart of the nearest paparazzi. Angrily, he tore his hand away.
It wouldn't do to escape one lengthy litigation only to enter
another.

All along the many highways and byways they hunted him, relentless in
their hunger, merciless in their pictures. For one as anti-social as
Sephiroth, this glorified status was grating on his nerves. It seemed
a cruel fate that would thrust him into the limelight. Fate always
loved to make him a chew toy, though, he thought as the SOLDIER led
the chase down another street.

As
with almost everything, he was skilled with handling the vehicle.
When the paparazzi thought to surround him, Sephiroth took the bike
to the air and flipped it over the car in his direct path. A dramatic
gesture and not one he'd normally adhere to, but it did get the job
done. The paparazzi gasped and cursed behind him but the General just
revved his bike up and sent it in the direction of home.

Home.
What a farce that was. Home was not meant for one such as himself.
Home was a place where people belonged. Being shipped from apartment
to apartment from various points in the city and then various tents
in places like the mountains ranges of Nibel he could not attachment
to any place. Home also implied the people one connected with—and
his current social circle was very slim indeed. Sephiroth simply
could not relate others very well, preferring solitude and silence
but both were rare indeed.

Eager
to be free of the black thoughts as he was to be of the paparazzi,
Sephiroth pushed the motorcycle to the limits of her speed. His long
trench coat bellowed out behind him like the night sky without the
taint of mako pollution. As he took a turn, the SOLDIER almost
crashed headlong into a Shinra truck. Only his lightning quick
reflexes spared him from being a stain on the vehicle's windshield.

And
that brief blink at death didn't faze the General. Sephiroth had
faced his own mortality nearly every day when he warred with Wutai.
Assassins were a way of life. Peering behind him, Sephiroth was
relieved to note that the paparazzi were falling further and further.
Between the assassins and the men with cameras, he'd take the
hitmen any day.

The
glass condo, Midgar Elite, came into view with its sprawling
high-rise apartments. With salvation in sight, Sephiroth burned the
bike down the lane toward it. One more look back

confirmed
that the pursuit had finally been abandoned. He let out a sigh. If
only there was an eloquent yet somewhat subtle way of exhibiting
exactly how he felt about their attention...After the smear trial he
couldn't afford—his lovely green eyes caressed Masamune—a more
direct approach.

The
General passed his bike over to a valet, gaze piercing the man in a
way only his could. "If she gets even the smallest scratch..."
His hand tapped Eskallalina meaningfully. "Let's just say you
won't suffer just a scratch." The man gulped, handling the
motorcycle like it was his firstborn.

Elite
was the finest condo complex in all of Midgar. The inside pool, mako
ball courts and gym were the biggest and best equipped of any
apartment building. The marble floor he strode upon shined from the
massive chandelier above and the staff were courteous and friendly,
perhaps to a fault. To Sephiroth, it was just another stopover in the
hell that was his life.

Attendants
circled the High Commander like the paparazzi. Out of the fire and
into the frying pan, he thought, glaring daggers to send them
scurrying out of his way. No he didn't care for some personal
entertainment; enough of the female staff had offered to 'service'
him that way. No, he didn't want any liquor sent up; he already a
massive migraine coming on. No, no, no...

"Out
of my way!" he finally snarled. The courtroom drama had worn his
patience thin. All the endless speeches, the ridiculous statements,
the false evidence...Sephiroth could almost feel himself tearing
apart and engaging in the murder of the staff would certainly damn
him. Sterling-silver hair floating the General hurried down the hall
and into an elevator.

Inside,
his head hit the wall and the SOLDIER breathed deeply, willing the
fury out of his mouth. Sephiroth hated the insincerity of humanity.
They who flashed his face on posters, magazines and the
television—they knew nothing of him! All they saw was the beautiful
icon, the skilled swordsman and the cold general. Nothing of the
trapped, tortured soul...

The
elevator binged and the doors slid open. Letting out a breath,
Sephiroth stepped into the corridor, his thoughts as dark as it was.
Though he'd been exonerated of the crime the general didn't
commit, the smear to his name was not entirely erased. Whatever gil
he'd been awarded for his pains had probably been wired into
President Shinra's bank account; he certainly hadn't seen any of
it. Not that he really cared...

Slipping
his keycard through the reader prompted the door to open, allowing
Sephiroth to enter and shut it, locking it securely. The room was
sparse; he'd had little time to decorate it because of the endless
meetings and briefings to attend. Not like he'd felt so inclined.
Even in the relatively safe space, the general felt too paranoid to
allow even the slightest sliver of his soul be revealed. Revealing
himself meant exposing his pain, pain that others can and had
exploited...

Within
minutes he'd hung his ebony coat in the closet and had a pot of tea
whistling. He took it sugarless, creamless, without sweetener of any
kind. Hojo had forbid him to use but the most base of ingredients for
his meals, not wanting his precious experiment to be affected even in
such a minor manner. As much as Sephiroth hated it he became
accustomed to the food that way. Cup held with one hand, the SOLIDER
lifted the remote with the other and flipped through the channels.

"Welcome
to the 23rd Shinra-sponsored Mako-ball Tournament! In the
semi-finals we have the Junon Crashers against the Midgar Mashers—"

Click.

"Oh,
Dimitri, I don't know how to tell you but...I'm in love with
your brother! And your son he's actually—"

Click.

"Channel
Twenty News. This is Marle Gateway with our top news story. Take it
away, Marle."

"Thank
you, Glenn. The verdict in the highly published sexual misconduct
case involving General Sephiroth is not guilty. Rumor has it that
President Shinra, the general's employer, rigged the case by
bribing the jury...These rumors have not been confirmed—"

Click!

Sephiroth
spat the liquid back into the cup. The general longed to hurl the
pottery at the offending TV but restrained himself and laid it on the
coffee table instead. He'd have a hard time explaining that to his
inventory assistant. Sephiroth had considered giving the assistant,
who he believed to be in league with Hojo, a date with Masamune but
decided that that, too, would not go unnoticed. Blood dripping off
his sword did tend to draw attention after all...

After
that nerve-scraping episode, the general was about to shut the
television off when he happened upon a rock concert by his favorite
band, The Followers. Their music was refreshingly realistic and
honest. What a rarity in this bubble-gum and
sugar-sweet-dagger-hidden times! The notes of their most recent song,
One Wing, reverberated through the apartment and the SOLDIER shut his
eyes, letting it flow over him.

Half-way
through, Sephiroth felt somewhat calmed so he grabbed his cup and
stepped out onto his balcony. The chill air slapped against his bare
chest and stirred his shimmering silver hair. From his high rise the
general had a spectacular view of the city in all its 'glory'.
Mako smoke climbed to the midnight sky and the noise of the bustling
city almost drowned out the third verse of One Wing.

Despite
the pollution and the noise there was peace and partial contentment
to found this night. At least the ordeal was mostly over. Sephiroth
would undoubtedly be the media's mud-slung darling in the next few
months but that would be nothing compared to the courtroom mess. The
constant fights to defend his honor, the accusations, the
frustrations with his less-than-moral legal assistance...Finally,
blessedly, over.

Ring!

Two
mako-green eyes flared open and traveled to his belt. His PHS was
ringing and flashing brightly with an incoming call. That peace was
determined to remain elusive, apparently. Keeping the device near was
an annoying requirement of his position, unfortunately. Lifting the
PHS to his ear, a slender finger pressed the ON button. "General
Sephiroth, here."

Sephiroth
wasn't sure whether he was dismayed or grateful that the wait for
the President was brief. But brief it was for Shinra's
phlegm-filled cough filled his ear. The general inched it away for a
moment then closer when the man began to talk. "Congratulations,
Sephiroth!"

Breathing
through his pearly white teeth, the SOLDIER muttered, "I'd hardly
think congratulations are in order...President."

Another
hacking cough, then..."Why of course it's in order! Those charges
you were up on were very serious, Sephiroth. Aren't you glad you
have a boss as generous as I to...how shall we say...make the jury
see...the gilden side of the...truth?"

"So
it is true...As they said..." Sephiroth said in monotone. It was
confirmed—his employer paid off the jury. Had he really anticipated
anything differently? The news channel hadn't. Now no one would
believe his innocence because while a select few had considered his
side of the story, the knowledge of tampering—regardless of the
fact that had been done with neither his knowledge nor consent—would
send them into the shadows of incrimination.

That
migraine was intensifying. Oh how he wished Hojo hadn't confiscated
his pain medicine.

Why
did he care? Sephiroth had never cared what the media or the masses
thought before. The truth was the truth even if most people perceived
it as a lie. He was innocent. He knew that. And even with his tainted
image the hypocrisy of humanity would make take that taint and
elevate his status higher. That was the ultimate irony of society—the
worse their icons were the more they loved them.

The
sounds of a long draw on a cigar emitted through the receiver. Was
Shinra on his second one already? Sounded like it. "Don't worry
about the leak, Sephiroth. A little bit more gil will shut the mouths
of those reporters. None will be the wiser of your...indiscretion."

They
will be the wiser—they'll just pretend they are not. "How
many times do I need to remind you, President Shinra, there was no
'indiscretion'!" Taking a few calming breaths, the general
continued, keeping his tone neutral. "She came on to me. I was
minding my own business when the bitch—"

There
was a whooshing sound like the wave of the hand. "There's no need
to discuss the details, Sephiroth. I'm not criticizing you. A man
will be man. I'm sure even a...oddball like you have needs..."
More choking, more choking..."But please do spare me the details
of your sexual...eccentrics..."

Fire
raged in Sephiroth's head, his pale facer even paler in the
moonlight. Why did people think him bizarre because he didn't
engage in the meaningless urges of humanity? Why was society like
that to begin with? Why couldn't a person just sit in their room,
read a few books, mind their own business...Why did society have to
drag them into the light, expose them to pain and then toss them
aside to suffer alone?

The
general shook his head to clear the thoughts as his employer was
rambled on. "You've had a hard time of it. I think you need a
vacation." Another draw on the cigarette, followed by another
phlegm-filled cough. "Some place remote."

That
had Sephiroth listening. A trip away from this nasty city wouldn't
be bad, especially considering the current situation. One silver
eyebrow arched. "A...vacation?"

"Yes,
yes, a vacation! To the wonderful exotic location of...Gongaga!"

Sephiroth
snarled. "You must be joking...Gongaga is in the middle of a
jungle!"

"Exactly.
The perfect getaway." In festering impatience the general waited
for Russell's hacking cough to cease so he could continue. It was
fortunate that Shinra quickly recovered—Sephiroth didn't how long
he'd last. "Well, you could, you know, deal with your
little...frustrations and take care of a matter for me. Kill two
birds with one stone, as they say."

With
a disgusted, exhausted sigh, Sephiroth said, "Fine. Why are you
shipping me off to Gongaga?"

"There's
been some rioting in the villages because of a little...spillage."

"Spillage?"
Sephiroth invested as much sarcasm as he could in the word. It was
widely known of his displeasure with Shinra's decision to harness
the mako for energy. The concept itself wasn't what bothered him—it
was the excessive nature of it. Like most natural resources, mako
could replenish itself if consumed conservatively. But, as Shinra
often put it, that's hardly profitable...

As
the President choked and gagged, Sephiroth pushed an errant strand of
starlight-shaded hair behind an ear. "Another unfortunate result of
your taxing the planet of its life, hmmmm? You are not simply content
to drain every last drop—you want that power, that money in your
hands as fast as humanly possible."

Once
he recovered, Shinra bypassed his subordinate's mutterings as he
always did. Like others he'd heard this protest before. Sephiroth's
concern lay with the welfare of the planet; Shinra's was with the
welfare of his bank account. "You leave tomorrow morning at 0600
hours. A helicopter will be waiting. I expect regular updates on the
situation and full report when you return."

Then
Shinra hung up, leaving a nasty clicking noise in the general's
ear.

Unlike
with the cup, Sephiroth couldn't restrain the urge to hurl
something—that something being the PHS—far and with fury. The
device flew true, smashing into an apartment building on the opposite
side of the street. Particles dropped to the road below to be crushed
by the oncoming cars.

Sephiroth
sighed. That's how he felt. Like someone had thrown him far and he
was falling, always falling, soon to burst apart. Again, the general
pressed forefinger and thumb at his temple, trying to dispel the
headache. The cool air against his body was a relief at least.
Explaining the PHS demise would be troublesome with his damn
assistant but he'd lift his blade and that would probably be the
end of it.

Now,
if only the situation at Gongaga could be as simple...

Focus.
There is much to do. Provision supplies. Contact my
second-in-command...As much as being pushed into solving every
one of Shinra's messes annoyed him, away missions often distracted
him enough to give him some peace. Others found relaxation in quiet
times or fun times---he found them in the heat of battle or the
tension of espionage.

A
sudden flash blinded the general. His hand came up to shield from
another. Soon many more flashes followed those. Hands on the railing,
Sephiroth peered below and cursed at what he saw. Determined as ever,
the paparazzi had camped out as near as they legally could by his
condo building and snapped as many pictures as they could get.

Yes,
going to Gongaga would be a welcome diversion...

Again
wishing he had a suitable way to show his 'appreciation' of their
'admiration' Sephiroth took refuge inside his condo again. They
had a good few pictures of him now, with his shirt off to boot. At
least he was so far up that whatever they had of him couldn't be of
good quality. Undoubtedly Sephiroth would find those same pictures on
the cover of the Investigator along with some sordid line like
"Shinra's Top Military Official stands on his balcony in the
nude!"

Yes,
tea would be good. He'd down the whole kettle before the night was
out.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.